Brand New Eyes
by theatrhythms
Summary: Three drabbles about Dean's life as an Avatar. SPN/Avatar.


**Title: **Brand New Eyes

**Author: **X Academy

**Series:** Supernatural

**Summary: **Three drabbles about Dean's life as an Avatar. SPN/Avatar.

**Warnings/Rating:** K. Nothing big, nothing big at all. :)

**Pairings:** None. You can choose to see any of the drabbles as having Wincest or Destiel undertones, but I'm not stressing anything.

**Characters:**

Dean Winchester – 25  
Sam Winchester – 21  
Castiel – Unknown

**New Characters: **

**Author Notes: **I was sketching Dean, Cas, and Sam as avatars when I just got the idea for three drabbles to suit the pictures. :) The first drabble focuses on Dean, the second one on Sam, and the third on Castiel, but all three of them are in Dean's POV… sort of.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural, Avatar, or any of their characters. I just do this for fun. I need a life.

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**I. OBS****ERVATIONS**

Dean had a reputation for flinging himself into things without paying attention to the minute details of them; that kind of reckless thinking was partially why his legs were useless, immobile twigs, not to mention he failed to pay attention to his fellow soldier Chuck's misinformation before the accident. He only cared about the bigger picture; his mind had developed a tendency to compartmentalize the details into the dark, closed up corners of his mind until it was too late.

As of late, he'd been getting better at paying attention to the small things, his legs a constant reminder to him, as well as Sam's way of repeating and repeating details to him until his head hurt and he was gutting Sam with his elbow. Dean would find himself remembering little, unimportant things Ellen would say as she milled around the lab, thinking of the exact shade of Jo's hair, staring at the birthmark on his hip a bit too intensely, and he would tell himself to stop thinking like Sam.

When he received his avatar, it only got much worse. Dean noticed how much more complex his mind was, how it seemed seamless and attuned to everything; like a machine, in a living sort of way. He noticed how his eyes would see things that used to be nonexistent, like dust motes and invisible cobwebs. He noticed how his markings seemed to fit together in a complex but simple jigsaw puzzle of sorts, how the ones on his jaws and cheeks seemed to make him look sharper, and how the odd cluster of stripes on his heart seemed to look like a heart itself.

But mostly, he paid attention to every last detail when he was running with his beautiful, long, _functioning_ legs. Dean noticed how he breathed in sharp lungfuls, how the dank Pandoran earth felt beneath his giant blue feet, the blood coursing through those strong legs and the muscles in them shifting and working in tandem: beautifully, perfectly. His braid trails behind him with a gentle tug at the back of his head, and the corners of his mouth are pulled up into a blissful, open-mouthed grin, and Dean knows it, feels it, _owns_ it for once.

It was one of the only things he found good about his new mindset; Dean wouldn't have had it any other way.

**II. OD****D ONE**

Dean notices that Sam's avatar markings are different; really different. While most of the Na'vi or avatars he's seen (they're not many at this point) have markings that seem to fit together and have a sort of harmony about them, Sam's are just plain random; like, _really_ random. The swirls that adorn Sam's cerulean skin rarely fit together or swerve in harmony; they just seem to squirm in an aimless pattern, like weeds. Sam also has more circular markings than most Na'vi; not to mention the extremely odd star-shaped cluster in the center of his forehead.

Dean is musing about this as he stares at his brother, sitting in his bunk, his too-long fingers working animatedly at his laptop, and before he knows it, he's plopped himself behind Sam and his fingers are tracing the swirls on his skin. Sam flinches for a moment, but leans into Dean and lets him ride out his random urge to touch him.

Sam still slightly dwarfs Dean as an avatar, but not by as much. Dean fingers an unusual whorl that was hiding just beneath the neck of Sam's t-shirt, an eel in the blue sea of the man's skin. As Dean goes on with his odd inspection, he starts to notice more small abnormalities about Sam's avatar; how his skin is a shade paler than normal, how his tail is shorter and hangs with a perpetual curve, how his eyes are slightly smaller, less feline than usual, and his nose a little sharper, a little longer. It amuses Dean, and he fights the urge to bite Sam's neck and tease him about his freakishness.

Instead, Dean just continues to touch Sam and laugh to himself.

**III. HEA****LER OF SORTS**

Dean's eyes follow Castiel's unusually slight form into the small alcove that is the infirmary before his body manages to. He looks around the dark, quiet place for a moment before returning his gaze to Castiel, because, for some reason, he feels better in the tribe's campsite if he can see the smaller Na'vi.

Castiel glances at him briefly; Dean knows he does that to make sure that he hadn't wandered off, before the Na'vi goes to converse with A'na. Dean watches the two talk in their native tongue, something he hasn't quite caught on to yet, their heads close together and their mouths moving rapidly. He understands small snippets of the conversation, and realizes that Castiel is worried about the sole child in the room; Uriel's daughter. He can assess that the girl's condition hasn't gotten any better over the last week, and feels a sudden pang of sympathy for Uriel, despite the fact that the Na'vi seems to despise him.

The conversation ends with a curt nod from Castiel and a small smile from A'na, and Dean watches as Castiel crosses over to the darkest, coolest corner of the room and kneels down over the small mossy bed the girl is curled up in. Dean inches closer in curiosity, but doesn't move any further when Castiel fixes him with a slightly challenging look. With a small huff, Dean just watches.

Castiel slides a hand under the girl's small head, and her eyes open a bit; Dean can see that they are bright and delirious with fever. She sighs softly, and Castiel rocks back so that he's sitting on his long blue legs before he pulls the smaller Na'vi into his lap. His eyes are scanning her body with a cool, calculating quality, and he opens his mouth to murmur something; a prayer.

Dean only sees that kind of fire in Castiel's eyes when the Na'vi is focused and hyped up in the midst of a hunt, or excited and wild on the back of an Ikran; even then, the energy and passion in those yellow orbs doesn't compare to this moment. Castiel leans down and touches his lips to the child's head, still praying softly; Dean almost feels jealous.

After awhile, Dean has watched Castiel pray and hold the child, pray and hold her, medicate her, then pray some more, and he's itching to have the Na'vi do the same for him, however awkward it may be. He follows Castiel out of the infirmary, studying the wing-like markings on the Na'vi's back as they make their way back to the campsite.

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**How was that? Did you like it? x3 My personal favorite was the second one, but I like all three in their own ways.**

**You can find the sketches at my deviantART; my username is X-Academy.**

**Reviews are very much appreciated. **

**- X Academy**


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